


Sing, My Love, My Maiden Fair

by Kestrealbird



Series: Curious Companions [1]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Lupin the dramatic romantic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other, Siren Fujiko, Vampire Goemon, Werewolf Jigen, casual talks about love with your bro, implied Jigen x Goemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:52:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: Goemon wonders if Lupin's love for Fujiko is genuine, or simply born of materialistic supernatural influence. He isn't expecting the answer he gets.





	Sing, My Love, My Maiden Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Me and my friend Ana have been gushing over this AU on discord for days now and I have a bunch of shit planned out for further stuff in this setting (mostly JiGoe related, sue me) but before all that I wanted to give a try at writing a whole fic from Goemons POV and, well, this happened. There's a lot of meta I could give behind werewolves and sirens and vampires but I'll spare you all of that and keep things short for ya :P

Lupin was...not _normal_ by any means, but he was still a _human_ , so it confused Goemon greatly that he seemed unaffected by the supernatural he’d chosen to surround himself with. More specifically, this confusion lay with Fujiko.

As a Siren, her voice was capable of making almost any conscious creature fall head over heels for her, which is what it had _seemed_ had happened to Lupin, but after a while, he began _defying_ her. An unspeakable act, for once a Siren had you under their spell there was no breaking it - not unless the Siren themself moved on from you. Or you died. Whichever came first, really. Humans were particularly susceptible to this. At least they were _supposed_ to be.

Fujiko couldn’t control anyone through her songs, it was true, but the power of _suggestion_ \- nothing more than a little nudge in certain directions that made it seem like it was purely your own volition - was a strong one.

(Fujiko had told him, once, that if she were born of the sea, her songs would be capable of drowning sailors. A Siren born with the blood of the land had weaker songs, and was the closest you could get to the Devil whispering sin into your ears. Goemon felt that there was a certain sadness around her, about this, and wondered if she’d ever hated her ancestors for trading the sea in return of mortal love.)

Goemon had been trained from a young age to resist a Siren’s song; his family was large and wealthy, and his mother had had many contacts she could summon on a moment’s notice. Jigen, put simply, just wasn’t _straight_ enough to be affected by a woman, but not innocent enough to be affected by a man either. As for Zenigata, well, the Inspector was so stubborn that he powered through whatever effect she may have had on him, solely focused on arresting Lupin and, by association, them as well.

Goemon respected him for it.

Stereotypically, of course, Lupin fit the bill for being the easiest target Fujiko could ever ask for, and for the longest time this seemed to be the case. He fawned over her, doted on the ground she walked, and risked his life to save hers even at cost of being stabbed in the back by her whims over and over again. Indeed, he seemed _completely_ under the influence of her charm. And then he’d started _resisting_ her.

It was small things at first. Not going to sleep when she asked him to - even when she lay on the bed in the most provocative way she could manage, though it did succeed in getting him excited - playing her at her own game of whimsy, stealing her drinks, fawning into her arms when she’d admitted that no man had ever found her taller height attractive. None of them minded that she was a head or so taller then they were, of course, but she’d used her voice to try and get them _not_ to comfort her.

Felt as if she needed to put on a brave face about it and, not wanting to upset her further, Goemon and Jigen had pretended to listen to her song. But not Lupin.

Evidently, the comfort is what she’d needed at the time. Lupin had _resisted_ her, somehow, and it was for the better, yes, but. It confused him. It made no practical sense and thus it was something he needed to figure out.

Lupin had been affected by Sirens before. So why would Fujiko be any different?

These were distracting thoughts to have while he waited for the train they would be stealing to pass through the mountain, yet he couldn’t stop himself from watching Lupin out of the corner of his eye, listening as the man gushed to Fujiko down the phone about how he was going to present the treasures on board to her as a wedding gift.

He sounded enamoured enough but, by no intention of his own, Goemon had learned the tonal differences in Lupin’s voice. A little too high - not enough grit and purr to it - to be ‘enamoured’ like he was with other Sirens.

Sometimes he hated the sensitivity of his own ears, and oft wondered how Jigen could stand being in a crowded room when his were even worse. Maybe werewolves were just better accustomed to that sort of thing. Or Jigen had simply learnt to deal with it. Either one was just as likely.

The smell of blood hit his nose, then, weak and thin when Lupin got off the phone and stretched his back. Goemon’s nose wrinkled and he gave Lupin’s side a harsh nudge with his foot, eliciting a pained hiss from his friend. “Bandage yourself up already. Your blood is going to drive me insane.”

Lupin threw him an annoyed look, grumbled something to the effect of “fucking vampire noses”, and turned away to sulk even as he lifted his shirt to change the bandages. Goemon tried his best to hide his concern and was rather sure he failed. He reminded himself that it was only a shallow knife wound, nothing life-threatening. It should stop bleeding within in the next week - sooner if Lupin actually let himself rest for once.

He snorted at the thought. The only time he’d ever rest is if Jigen choked him into passing out or Fujiko sang him to sleep.

Goemon needed to know the truth. Now was as good a time to ask as any. “Lupin,” he said, getting a hum in reply, “what _is_ Fujiko to you?”

There wasn’t a hint of hesitation or deliberation in Lupin’s grand reply, hands flying with wild gestures as he spoke. “She’s the love of my life of course! Fujiko is the apple of my eye, the rose in a garden of weeds, the brightest star in my dreary life! She means all the treasures in the world to me and more, she’s-”

Goemon rolled his eyes in disgust, swiftly cutting him off with a sharp, “Do you really love her?” Lupin stumbled on his words, blinking. For a moment, Goemon thought he’d finally caught the man out and successfully rendered him speechless. And then, with an ear splitting grin and practical hearts in his eyes, Lupin _laughed._

“Of course I do! I’ve loved Fuji-cakes from the moment I met her. Just like I fell in love with you and Jigen.” Goemon frowned, glancing down where Lupin sat beside him. He only loved her because she was unique and useful, then, not because of real affection. He should’ve guessed as much; Lupin loved almost every woman he came across, and he often expressed his “love” for Jigen when a good plate of food was placed in front of him.

“...shallow,” Goemon told him, voice bland and blunt. Lupin hummed, undeterred.

“Mmmm is it? I guess it depends on context. I really am sincere about my love for her.” He wasn’t smiling anymore, his eyes light yet serious with the declaration. He met Goemon’s eyes head-on, maintaining contact until Goemon had to look away, flustered at the intensity in Lupin’s expression. How could he be so simple yet complicated? Shallow yet sincere? To Goemon, Lupin was an enigma of opposites constantly entwined into one person; a conflict of interests that somehow seemed to work in harmony.

He focused on the train tracks further down the mountain. “You’re a difficult man to understand.” Perhaps that was how Lupin managed to keep them around - the complexity of his simple life-style was a sure way to keep them all on their toes, constantly looking forward to the next adventure while simultaneously enjoying the moments of domestic silence in hotel rooms and old stone houses.

“...do I confuse you, Goemon?” There was something in Lupin’s eyes, as he said this, that Goemon couldn’t quite place - couldn’t understand.

“No.” Yes.

Again, Lupin smiled, yet this time there was no teasing lilt to it - no grin to show his teeth, just a small quirk of his lips, expression oddly soft. “Her voice can’t work on someone who already loves her. I don't need any supernatural interference for that.” Goemon could feel his own eyes widening at the admission, stunned by the weight of it. “There’s so much about her that I could wax poetic over; her hair, her strength, her eyes, the way her nose crinkles when she laughs. Guess that makes me a pathetic romantic, huh?”

A breath shuddered out of Goemon’s lungs, crisping in the cool night air as silence fell between them. He had nothing more to say - there was nothing he _could_ say to that. He heard a distant howl, the answering rumble of a train, and thanked his fortune for the distraction. “The train is coming. I just heard Jigen’s howling.”

Lupin jumped to his feet in an instant, cocky grin back in place where it belonged. “Wow you must really be in love if you were listening out for your boyfriend.”

Once more, Goemon’s thoughts froze and his body seized up in a frantic rush of embarrassment. By the time his mouth worked enough to deny such a claim, Lupin had already taken off in his glider.


End file.
